Soda's House
by Sweetie Amoeba
Summary: A slightly older Steve has a slightly wild night.


Ever since Angela and Curly kicked me out, I've been living with Soda and his family. He and Sandy have a really awesome house—one story with two separate living rooms. The basement is my private suite. It has a bedroom, a bathroom and a cinderblock—walled storage room that I've converted into a studio by storing my amps and guitars there. Plus I've propped a few mattresses against the walls to stop the echo.

They both like having me around. Sandy says the house is too big for just three people. I think it's too _small_ for _four_ people. Maybe only these four people, me, Soda, Sandy and their baby son, Johnny. I'm not complaining. Living with Curly and Angela _and_ Tim was pure hell, as you can imagine.

They kicked me out because Angela convinced everyone I was mentally unstable. That isn't true. After The Incident, I had gotten my shit together in just a few days. "The Incident" to which I'm referring, is of course the fateful morning when I woke up in my car on the edge of town with an assortment of hotel towels in the backseat, sticky pumpkin remains all over my clothes and hair, my wallet and shoes missing, and no memories at all of the previous night. I mean, pumpkin? Really? It wasn't anywhere near Halloween! I had no explanation and nowhere to go.

I drove to Curly's house and knocked. Tim, fresh outta jail, answered the door. When he saw me, shoeless and smelling like a pumpkin field, an expression came over his face like_ Oh god, not again._ I've known him for over fifteen years and during that time, he's gotten me out of trouble more times than I can count.

"This is gonna be a good one, I can tell," he said, stepping aside so I could enter.

It was a little over a month later when Angela told me I had to leave. She, Curly, and Tim had had a little talk, sister-to-brother-to-brother, and made the decision without me. They even held a goddamn _intervention._

The three of them sat on the couch, looking at me in a very serious way. Even Curly, although he was still pretty young at the time. He looked just like Tim, the way their eyebrows moved when they thought very deeply.

Angela explained that, even though they all loved and appreciated me, it was time for me to "take responsibility for myself."

She told me that I was doing more harm than good. Staying up until three each night and trying to write songs wasn't normal. Eating lollipop after lollipop and trying to sew my bedsheets together wasn't normal. Making elaborately-woven jewelry out of human hair was definitely not normal. She must have used the word "normal" fifty times. Apparently, I was forgetting how to take care of myself, which was somehow a new concept to them. I didn't see why it mattered to her. They were all living together, even though they were fully grown adults. I pointed out the fact that if _she_ was so responsible and normal, she should go find her own place. She didn't listen.

I was packed and out the door in thirty seconds.

That was the first night I stayed with Soda. When he heard what happened, he invited me over for drinks at his and Sandy's house. "You should come live with us!" He had said. "It'll be just like old times, except forever!" He grinned and started dancing around energetically. He accidentally danced into the coffee table and fell over. Curled up on the area rug, he shouted, "This is gonna be great!"

That was six months ago, and I'm still living in their basement. I don't have to help pay rent, since Sandy already owns the house. It was willed to her by her grandfather before she was even born. It's a pretty sweet deal.

After I moved in with them, we started adding decorations. I found some plastic lawn chairs on a curb so I brought them home and set them on the porch. The kitchen cabinets have posters of rock bands on them. Best of all, we bought blue lightbulbs for the bathrooms. Now whenever I look in the mirror at night, I look like a freaky blue alien. When I'm high it really wigs me out.

* * *

This fall I'm supposed to start going to community college and I really don't wanna. Darry forced me to sign up and even though I've tried reasoning with him, he won't shut up about my future and getting a job and all that crap. I'm not his son _or_ his brother, but he thinks he can just step in and make all these changes in my life without my permission.

"But I'm not ready for this, man!" I'd whined.

"You aren't taking care of yourself, so it seems like someone else has got to." he had replied coldly, ending the conversation.

The semester starts next month and I've got to weasel my way out of this. I'm getting a ton of financial aid, paying a little from what I earned last year at the DX. I was saving up all this money, not really knowing what I'd use it for. Maybe a trip down to Mexico or a new amp or something.

A few weeks after he enrolls me, I run into Randy. I'm just walking down the street and he pulls up next to me in his van and demands that I get in. The inside of his van is really interesting. He's taken out the back seats and put down this puke-colored orange carpet. There are beads hanging from the ceiling. Marcia is in the passenger seat and she smirks at me on my way in.

Randy starts driving again. "Listen Steve," he says real slow. "I'm having a party the day after tomorrow and I want you to come."

"What kind of party?"

"Oh, it'll be fun!" says Marcia, turning around to look at me. She's wearing at least ten beaded necklaces and they clack when she moves. "It's at the place we're sharing with Socie McGee." I know where that is. It's a small house right by the tracks, in what used to be River King territory. I've driven by it a few times. Socie always has some party going on.

"What day is that"

"Monday."

I'm supposed to go to college that day. "I'll be there."

So when Monday rolls around, instead of going to class I hide from everybody until I know Darry is safely at work. Then I spend some time at Bennie's and finally walk across the bridge over the railroad tracks to the party. The sun is just finishing setting and the entire sky is purple. The door is wide open so I go in without knocking.

Music is blasting from the speakers and it's an album I'm not familiar with. The entire room smells like pot. There are people everywhere, lounging around on the furniture and doing nothing.

Randy and Marcia are already buzzed, swaying in the corner together. Socie is nearby, chatting with a few cowboy-looking guys by the staircase. Randy sees me and waves me over.

"Hey man, this is such a great party! Isn't this great? Isn't this a blast? Here, have a beer!"

He hands me a lukewarm bottle of beer and I swig it down, then take another. I'm looking around the room, trying to find someone else to talk to. I spot a few kids I used to know from school, all greasers. Just a bunch of greasers running around and drinking like crazy hooligans. I see something fall past the window and I hear a crash.

"Oh shit, was that the TV?"

The doorbell rings just then, and when Socie answers, a cop is standing there.

"We received several noise complaints from the neighbors, and we'd like you to keep it down."

Socie seems unsure. "Well, geeze, I'm not sure if that's possible..."

"Mind if I take a look around?"

"Well, actually..."

But before Socie can finish, the cop is in the house, stepping around the coffee table and obviously trying to locate the source of the weird smell. He knows marijuana when he smells it. It isn't hard to find in this town.

That's when I realize that I need to get out of there as quickly as possible. I can't get picked up now. Sure I can legally drink, but I was a part of the big disruptive party, associating with potheads plus Socie McGee is a pretty well-known drug dealer. In this town, at least. If I get picked up for ANYTHING, I'll get sent to jail, and that's the worst thing I've ever imagined happening to me.

The next thing I know I'm shoving past people, bolting for the door. I hear the cop say "Hey," but by the time he finishes, I'm long gone. On the porch I stumble over something and fall in the grass. I look down and realize my foot is stuck in—get this—a _pumpkin._ Somebody put a motherfucking _jack-o-lantern_ on the porch. _What kind of a sick freak would do something like that?_

I get up and try to run, but since I'm a little drunk, I'm not going so fast. The idea dawns on me to look back to see if the cop is chasing me, and he isn't. I just need to get home.

When I finally drag myself to Soda's house, I'm out of breath and disoriented. It takes me a few tries, but I finally open the front door. Soda and Sandy are there. So is Darry, for some reason.

I guess I was supposed to go to college today, but for what? So I can waste my youth preparing to get a job I hate and work until I die? So I can pay taxes and push pencils and ignore my kids and hate my life?

I can't think about that right now. I can't really think about anything. I'm drunk and sweaty, my foot is stuck in a pumpkin, I'm a dropout with no future and the cops are probably after me. Worst of all, a pissed-off Darryl Curtis is standing in the middle of the room, and judging by the look on his face, I can tell you right now that he isn't happy to see me.


End file.
